Shilpa Roy Kota

Parenting Stories (and more) from the desk of an imperfect parent

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  • Symptoms of Split Personality Disorder

    Eiffel Tower

    I love children! I love anything to do with them. I love their smile, their clothes, their toys, their books and even the smell of their skin. In the past, when I have travelled alone, I have missed my two little ones so badly that I have managed to ruin my travel sulking about not having them around. In such situations, when I spot any willing kids on flights or busy market streets, I go down on my knees to talk to them; share a joke or just smile with them. It is my way of healing myself; giving my soul what it needs.

    Today, as I boarded my long flight to Paris, I was playing a guessing game with myself, thinking what kind of person would be sitting next to me during the flight. I like this game, guessing the nature of the person and the conversations we can have together. Meeting new people is one of the reasons I have started loving to travel. No matter what I guess, my track record states that I will always be wrong. Nonetheless, I still play this game just to be pleasantly surprised with the choices of people, God sends my way.

    As I settled in my seat and opened my blanket to drape it over my cold shoulders, a little baby crawled over to me and said, “Boo!”. Instinctively, I smiled and reached over to pick her up. People were still walking in the aisle and it was not a safe or a clean place for the baby to crawl. Catching the baby in one hand, I looked curiously around the line of chairs to spot her parents. I caught the eye of her disheveled mother, deep into conversation with the air hostess. She nodded her head at me as if thanking me for catching her baby for a while. She lugged her bags and slowly came towards us. I was assuming she would be searching for her seats, but to my surprise she settled her bags on the seat next to me. The realization that this mother and daughter duo were my companions for the next 9 hours made me giddy.

    My heart sank. I did not want to have the company of this baby for the next nine hours. I did not want loud squeals in my ears or smelling diapers in my nose. I was just not mentally prepared for this. Oh God! Not today.

    To my relief, the Air hostess came around in a few minutes and offered the mother another set of seats which would give her more room to handle the baby. The mother politely refused the offer as she had already settled in her chair. I was disappointed but quick thinking came to my rescue. I offered to change my seat on the pretext that an empty seat would give more room to the mother and her baby.

    I slowly relaxed my crossed fingers as the Air Hostess smiled in acceptance and the mother thanked me profusely for being so considerate. Little did she know that I was making this change for me and not for her.

    So what changed today? How did I transform from someone who loves children to someone who could not bear the thought of an adorable baby being next to me for nine hours? I guess the answer lies in the fact at my frame of my mind I chose to carry with me today. When I am travelling with children, I am prepared to be on my toes. I carry toys, snacks and movies to be keep them engaged. I have switched on my Mother Mode. In this mode, if you hand me two more kids, I will happily accept. The more the merrier. Simply because, the more there are, the more they will be engaged within themselves without my intervention.

    But today, when I kissed my sweethearts’ good bye, I switched off my Mother Mode and turned on the “Single Happy Woman Traveler” mode. In this mode, I focus on soaking in the world around me and listening to my deepest inner voices. God knows, I couldn’t have done that with a baby blabbering in my face.

    How can someone love children and yet behave like this at the same? Does it make me a person with Split Personality Disorder? Maybe you can say so. I would proudly accept the diagnosis. I am proud to say that I split my personalities many times in a day between that of a Mother, Manager, Writer, Friend, and Daughter (not to mention cook, cleaner, etc.) If you think about it, each personality needs different behaviors and I literally switch off one mode to move into another mode. Amongst all these modes, one of the rarest mode that I get to experience is the “Single Happy Woman Traveler” mode. Given the opportunity to live in this mode for nine hours, I was pretty sure I did not want anything to come in its way.
    If you want to judge me for that, feel free. In my defense, I will only say that I did check on the mother daughter duo, from time to time, to see if they were doing fine on their own. The check just proved that my decision to stay away was right. There was utter chaos on my ex seat and I was happy not being a part of it!

    P.S. When Indigo Airlines reserved some rows as “No Children” rows, I could totally relate to where they were coming from. It is not discrimination on the basis of age. It is simply respect for time and peace of some travelers, who really value and need it.

  • Collection of Old Memories from Early Years with Yog

    Early years with Yog

    December 1, 2013

    How do you know when you are spending too much time in the wrong place? Looking for a pen to sign a check and end up going in the kitchen to pick one. Almost picked a knife before I realized it is not a pen! God Save Me!

    April 2, 2013

    Age: minus 3 months

    Specialty: The time when you can actually kick your mother awfully hard and still be praised for it.

     

    June 24, 2013

    Switched on the laptop after about a week and am flooded with update messages – windows update, skype update, tumblr update…. At this pace, by the time I get back to work, I will need a head to toe update for myself ad well. 😦

    July 6, 2013

    Dear all, Thank you for your wishes! I apologize for not answering some calls and responding to all messages individually. You see, Yog and I had a busy night yesterday partying with Milk bottles and dirty diapers. No wonder then, that since morning we have had a serious hangover and have been extremely busy trying to resolve that. Nonetheless, I have managed to check all messages and really thank you for them. I know it is going to be an exciting year ahead

    July 28, 2013

    Diaper – check; Bottle – check; Burp – check; Blanket – check; Fan- check; All Out – check; Sleep – why not checked in till now 😦

    August 18, 2013

    The latest popular family game we are playing at home – Catch-Catch How the game is played: One person brings a new infection home, is treated for it and recovers. Before he/she recovers, they have to find a way to transfer the same to another person in the family, without the new person coming to know about it. This next person has to somehow modify the virus/bacteria in a way that the same medicine is no longer effective and hence the doctor needs to be visited again. They finally recover but not before passing it on in the chain. Other rules – 1. The infection can be passed on to more than one person at a time 2. One person can catch the infection more than once within the same cycle 3. Points are deducted for each extra day you hold the infection without passing it on 4. And the final rule – No matter who starts the game or who passes the infection, the final winner is always – THE DOCTOR

    STATUTORY WARNING – Please don’t try this game at home.

    September 6, 2013

    When Yog was born, I was telling a friend how busy life is “I dont even get time for my bio breaks” A few days ago she called to check how I am doing. I told her “Oh! that problem was solved. I no longer get time to eat or drink during the day now. ”

    September 18, 2013

    It’s been a long day and I am tired. Toyna comes to me and says:, ” I know why adults get tired. ”

    Me (thinking she is going to lecture me on good food habits and exercise ): Please tell me why

    Toyna: Because they have children! !!

    September 20, 2013

    Toyna and me are both practicing Cursive Writing. Reason – So her teacher can understand what she writes and she can understand what I write. It is quite hard for me to write legibly with a pen anymore! I know only I can understand my office notes scribbled on my notepad. Good thing about that, I never had to worry about data privacy. 🙂

    September 27, 2013

    Why did God make only 24 hours in a day? And even if he did that, why did he make the human body such that we need to sleep atleast 7 hours in that day. 😦 I am sure God was never a woman!

    October 4, 2013

    The hardest thing for a mother is to transition her child into the hands of another care giver, whether its a nanny, play school or even a spouse. Someone who was literally a part of you for nine months and has been so close to you ever since; has to be left with someone else. Tearful reality!

     October 1, 2013

    Day Two of Yog in office. He has been sleeping so much more soundly at work than he ever did at home. Does he safer and contended here or does he assume thst this is the place meant to sleep! !!

    October 22, 2013

    I think infant meal time brings out the deepest creative talents out of any mother. One month into it and I have tried toys, music, reading, singing ryhmes, hoola dancing, acrobatics (performed by elder siblings), peek a boo, and yes even TV. Each new thing works well the first time and then follows the law of depreciating returns. Running out of options, I today found a new blue color ball, with colorful patterns, hooked on a red stand making it easy to rotate with infant hands. Yog was super excited to hold it, read about it, rotate it and finally chew it. By the end of the meal, we had conquered the whole world with carrot khichdi, gummy wars and cooing speeches! What a great way to start the day! I am already looking forward to World War 2 now.

    October 28, 2013

    Most adults use five senses to learn about the world. My little one just uses one – Taste! Everything from books, toys, blankets, wires, utensils and even carpets are being experienced using the mouth and tongue. God save me!

     

    Many more to follow….

  • Scissors are dangerous in the hands of kids, but not in the way you think

    fabindia

    A few years ago, I was enjoying some lighthearted conversations with a women acquaintances over dinner.  When we first sat down at the table, conversation was limited to business, musical events, and latest shopping sales. As we twirled the wine glasses and picked on soft, juicy kebabs, conversation shifted to children. One of the women was a blogger, like me, so I hung on to each word that she said ( For some reason,  I have this perception that people who blog are always more clear in their heads.)

    She had two daughters, one of whom had just entered her teens. Her pain was, therefore, the strongest and just waiting to flow in front of the right audience. I guess, she found that audience in me. She said with an exasperated sigh,”Shilpa, no matter what I tell you, nothing will prepare you for these years! They are simply terrible!” In my mind, I discounted her exasperation! I had just celebrated the first birthday of my son. I was pretty sure nothing could be more stressful than bringing up an infant. Nonetheless, I decided, there was no harm in hearing her out. If nothing else, she would feel a little better after shedding part of her stress.

    She went on narrating stories about rebellion, dropping grades, tantrums and mood swings. At one point, during the discourse, she paused, took a deep breath and said, “Shilpa, if there is one tip that I can share with you, it will be, “Till you have children at home, never ever buy a scissor for your house,! Scissors are your worst enemy!” I nodded my head, as if in complete agreement. But internally, I again wondered how could that be. Each day, I encouraged Yog (one year old at that time) to cut a variety of things using a scissor. It was one way of building his fine motor skills.

    Sigh! If only I knew!

    I spent the last weekend cleaning up my cupboard. Thanks to the extra long time I took to get to it, it was extremely cluttered. I had even forgotten about some clothes that I had purchased in the past. Some of them had moved into dark corners of the white shelves. I literally had to dump out everything on to the bed; sort, organize and then put it back into the right shelf. In this process, I came across a nice black dupatta my mother had gifted me some time back. Ummmm! Nice! I found it again! Even though I had not worn it even once till now, it was special, because my Mom had given it to me. I opened and draped it over me to soak in the feel. It was then I noticed, a big circular hole, somewhere in the lower side. I was shocked. I was pretty sure, we did not have rats in the house. Then who could it be, to have done such damage?

    I quickly checked a few other dupattas to see if the rest of them were fine. My worst fears were confirmed. Someone had been systematically running through my fine collection of dupattas and taking out pieces of fabric. Hang on! Didn’t I see this pink piece of missing fabric as a cape for the barbie? Oh!  And this is where the fine lace originated from, for creating the Rakhi for my nephew based in Delhi.

    Argh! I was furious at myself to have ignored the signs for so long! I should have thrown out all the scissors when my daughter had first chopped her front hair, on her own, months ago. I had then laughed it out and fooled myself into believing that scissors could do no more harm. I had thought, the worst was over. What more could possibly go wrong?

    For all those naive parents reading this today, please learn from my experience. Please do not fool yourself, like I did. Scissors are an extremely  dangerous tool. Please keep them under strict supervision at all time.

    P.S. An ulterior motive of writing this blog is to communicate to my Mom the fate of the beautiful black dupatta. God knows, I don’t have the heart to tell this to her in person.

  • I will miss you!

    Mama Toyna Yog

    Yog: Mama, please don’t go to office

    Mama: I have to go to office today. I have a meeting in office.

    Yog: I will also come to office with you. I will also sit in meeting.

    Mama: Yes Yog! When you grow big, you will go to office and meetings. Then, Mama will not go to office. I will stay at home.

    As soon as these words are out of my mouth, I feel a sharp pull at my heart. I realize that as Yog and Toyna grow big, our roles will be reversed. I will be at home, waiting for both of them to call me or come and meet me. But I know that they will not have time for me then. They will be busy in their lives, like we are busy in our lives right now. Just like Yog reminds me to come home soon, I will remind Yog and Toyna to come home on time. Like they keep themselves busy during the day, I will also keep myself busy during the day with jobs, hobbies and activities. However, as soon as the evening shadows will return, just like Yog waits for me to return and envelop him in my arms, my eyes will wait for both of them to return and give me a hug. I know most days, they will not return home on time. Even when they return, they will not have time to hug me.

    As these thoughts cross my mind, my heart shudders. I am modern, independent woman, but I still cannot take out the mother from inside of me. I cannot accept that life will be like this in the future. While I have the courage to leave a crying Yog behind when I go to work, I cannot gather the courage to think that Yog will do the same to me, when I am sixty five years old.

    While I worry about my state 25 years from now, I chance upon our parents, tapping their wrinkled fingers on the iPad screen, trying to restore the internet connection. I realize that in our passion for building a resilient business, we had already gifted the future I am dreading, to our parents, as their reality of today.

    Since we have made our choice to focus on work leaving both children and parents behind, it is only natural that we should be prepared to face the same future when our children make the same choices. But sadly, I am not ready for this future. At least, not yet.

    As I step out to wear my shoes, Yog gives me a hug.

    Yog: Mama, promise me you will miss me.

    Mama (with a heavy heart): I promise I will miss you.

    Yog: Ok Mama! I will miss you too! Be Careful!

  • Be Careful

    queen

    I wave Goodbye to three year old Yog and tell him I am going to office. He comes running towards me, hugs my knees and says, “Be Careful Mama!”

    I reassure him that I will be careful, after all I have to come back home to him and his sister. As I walk down the street to my office, I muse to myself, how a simple “Good Bye” has been replaced with “Be Careful” in our minds. Not only adults, who read and digest news everyday, but young children like Yog can also sense that the world is not a safe place anymore. It doesn’t matter whether I am walking down 50 meters to my office in broad daylight, or my husband is travelling 7000 miles in the middle of the night, our hearts and mind are always prepared for the worst.

    I would not call ourselves “pessimist” to assume that danger is real and that it could be lurking in our very neighborhood. I think it is a reality. Given this reality, we have not stopped enjoying our lives. We still lead a happy, adventurous life, which is protected to some extent with phone battery backups and pepper spray tubes.

    I wish there was more we could do to protect ourselves. More importantly, I wish, there was something that we could do to reduce this implicit danger that surrounds us all the time. Both our Organizations, KINDUZ and LASSIB are taking baby steps in this direction. However, every time Yog wishes me to be careful, I am reminded that the speed of change needs to be much faster. Until such time that small steps create a big movement, it is indeed each individuals responsibility to “Be Careful”.

  • Do you Own your Spouse?

    2

    ” Do you own your spouse?”

    Rather, “Did you buy your spouse in the open market through bidding, betting or negotiating?”

    Well, in case you did buy your spouse, then you have every right in the world to own them. You have every right to dictate what they wear; what they eat; how much they sleep and how much they are supposed to earn. No questions asked! You sure must’ve paid a hefty price to own them, so you have every right, now, to control their lives. Needless to say, I pity those spouses who sold their pride, dreams and individual entity to be, from this day forward, called the spouse of  XXX.

    Fortunately or unfortunately, my family never had enough money to buy a husband for me. I, therefore, did not marry for money. For those like me, who did not pay dowry to buy their spouse, can we still claim single ownership rights to our Man/Wife? Do we think we have the right to dictate terms on how they lead their lives, right from the food they eat to the career choices they make?

    Somehow even without paying the money, most spouses come with a certain right of entitlement on their better halves. I often see husbands negotiating with their wives in order to spend a week off with their friends (male or female friends – that is another dimension all together, which we cannot discuss right now). On the other side, I see wives begging for a day off from children and house chores to spend quality time on a hobby they have been nurturing since long. Why do spouses need permission to lead their own dreams? Just because, the Registrar stamped our marriage certificate, does it mean that we gave up our individual right to freedom?

    Is the marriage certificate really a certificate to tie us down within the constraints of this world? Is it a certificate that should restrict and controls our dreams, our needs and the very purpose of our life. Conversations like these are all too common, ” Oh, so you wanted to be a Rockstar! Too bad, that you got married to me! How will you support me, and kids and your parents on the erratic nature of a Rockstar income! ” Such conversations force us to make the difficult choice between maintaining a spouse or maintaining our dream! Most of us, choose our spouse even when we see our dreams fading away into oblivion.

    Unless we paid money to buy our spouse, my recommendation is that spouses should support each other as best friends/partners in their journey of life. For those who sold their soul in the process of getting married, I am sorry to say that you have already written off your life. Maybe you will stand a chance to win a Best Friend/Partner for life in your next life! Till such time, may God give you courage to lead a purposeless life of slavery. Amen!

     

  • Could you please stop helping!

    Negotiations

    4th April 2016

    Toyna and me sat down with the pile of new books, fresh out of the covers, proudly handed over by the school. I pulled out the stack of covering paper, tape and scissors and started the covering process. Lay the book in the middle of the paper, fold the sides, tape the sides, fold the top corners, tape the top corners, fold the bottom corners, tape the bottom corners, one done. Next book. Lay the book in the middle…

    Toyna took the covered book, wrote her name on it and scanned the contents, while I busied myself with the next book. Having covered school books for the last eight years, this was an extremely automated and mechanical activity for me, by now. As the book turned around in my hands, my mind wandered to the beginning of school years for Toyna. Both Toyna and I used to so excited at the beginning of each new year. New books, new bag, even new tiffin boxes, water bottles, et all. We used to go all out in preparing for the new year. Eight years on, I cannot wait to get over with these preparations. Just two days ago, I covered books for the three old Yog, wondering all along, how the school planned to finish these 20 books in the span of one year of Lower Kindergarten. Toyna seemed to have just about the double number of books than Yog. It was going to be a long evening of wrapping and labeling.

    Yogwas busy coloring (or rather spattering) his coloring book in the background. For the first few peaceful minutes he ignored Toyna, Me and our big pile of books. But slowly, his attention diverted to, what the two most important girls in his life, were doing. Yog, is the boy who leads his life on simple rules. He has rules for eating, sleeping, bathing and going to school. Most important rule in his life is “If it is important enough to done by Toyna, it is important enough to be done by Yog.”

    He pushed away his colors and rushed to my side of the table to take hold of the scissors. He picked up Toynas Maths book and cut page number 151 and 153. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. I scowled at Yog and snatched the scissors from his grasp. He screamed in frustration. By now, Toyna realized that something was wrong. Tears welled her eyes and she rushed to lash out at Yog. I had to step in to control Toyna from hitting Yog and ended up scolding Toyna. While my attention was at Toyna, Yog sneaked behind me and stuck the roll of opened tape on top of two books, sealing them together. Arghhhh!  I was now furious at myself and all I wanted to do was give two tight ones to Yog for all his help.

    Wait a minute! Isn’t that what Yog really wanted to do? He wanted to be part of the process that both Toyna and me were involved in. Maybe he was just trying to help. To test this hypothesis, I assigned roles for Toyna, Yog and myself in the covering process. I was supposed to cover the book. Yog was supposed to cut the tape and give it to me. And Toyna was supposed to label the book.

    Yog, sat on top of a stool, feeling important and worthy of being handed a powerful responsibility. The first tape he handed to me was too long. I calmly explained to him that we wanted shorter tapes, so the next one, as expected, was too short. The third one was just right in size but it was all folded up, not really in a position we could use it. We didn’t lose hope and kept trying to perfect the tape cutting process. If nothing else, it was keeping him busy and distracted enough for us to finish our chores. Over the next 10 minutes, he figured how to cut decent sized tapes and hand them to me before they became all crumpled up.

    With that, I realized, it was now faster and easier for me to cover the books as someone was readily handing me the cut pieces of tape (with pride written all over his face). I couldn’t help but smile at my foolishness of ignoring the signs that little Yog had been giving for these past few weeks. All he wanted to say was that he was ready to help. We finished the job of covering the books, each one of us playing our roles immaculately.

    Since that day, whenever Yog insists on being a part of our chores, I welcome him gladly. We assign him one small responsibility and he is immensely happy contributing. Among the many small tasks he has mastered, include

    • Washing vegetables, rice and pulses (or any other task related with water).
    • Handing me clothes from the bucket, as I spread them out on the washing line.
    • Loading the washing machine
    • Fetching water from the kitchen for Guests and returning the used glasses to the kitchen

    I guess it makes him feel important and big to be involved in something that only elders were allowed to do till now.

    Life is much easier, not to mention peaceful, now that we are involving him rather than putting up defenses around us to keep him out. Needless to say, we are all happier and relaxed knowing that we don’t need to be scared, when Yog is around.

  • Red Wet Shoes

    Red Wet Shoes

    Red Shoes

    Rain brings showers to cool the hot land
    Splash, splatter, drip music fills the air
    Little Yog jumps free in puddles anew
    Wet mud soaking clothes and red shoes

     

    The party ends soon, he has to be confined again
    Rinse and clean hands, feet and face
    Clothes go soaking in the warm tub
    But everyone forgot the wet red shoes

     

    School time, next morning
    Red shoes are still wet and muddy
    Mummy said, “No wet shoes to school”
    Yog heart breaks
    He collapses on the floor
    No other shoes in the world are right for school

     

    There is rain again today, streaming down Yogs face
    The shoes crying on the steps dripping water
    Best friends denied the right to be together
    No other shoe has the right to school

     

    Desperate Mummy, pulls out a Candy
    Trade Candy for Shoes please
    Yog sighs, wipes his face and reaches for the candy
    Yog forgets shoe
    Yog off to school

     

    Shoes are happy too
    They  were loved enough to be fought for
    They hold the power to get candy for Yog

     

  • The Best Gift

    Toyna and Yog

    Most of us, urban middle class, educated, self made parents of today, were born to parents who struggled hard to make ends meet. Because our parents had limited means, they were constantly prioritizing resources. As children, we had limited reused toys, clothes and almost no fancy holidays. The paradox is that while our parents struggled financially, they made it up for the time that they invested in us. Our generation, which lives in an era of abundance, lacks the only one thing that money cannot buy – Time.

    Our children have the latest clothes, books, toys, and holidays. Each day, in the pretext of being a better parent, I am searching for the one new thing that can improve the quality of life of my children. What is the one gift that will lighten up their eyes and provide mental and/or physical stimulation to them. Sadly, there is no gift in this world which has more than a few days of shelf life in our house. No matter how expensive, beautiful or creative the gift is, it would have expired its utility in the minds of my children within a few days.

    I solved the dilemma about the perfect gift a few nights ago. Toyna and Yog were trying different tactics to bargain a few more minutes before sleep time. Yog held his stomach with both hands and complained, “My tummy is paining! Mummy, I am sooooo hungry!” He knows meal time is what will get him the longest time to stay out of bed. I shook my head, “No Yog! Dinner time is over. It is sleep time now!” Toyna then pitched in, “Mama, can I finish watching this movie! Only 5 more minutes left.” I shook my head again. I knew the next negotiation would be story time, which I normally give into. After story, Yog would want to go drink some water. Then he would need to pee. Then they will fight over which side of the bed, who sleeps. They they will fight over the blanket. And in the end, they will fight over me. “Yog move over, let me sleep with Mama!”

    Hah! It is the same negotiation every day, resulting in the same outcomes. However, Yog and Toyna still try it out everyday. As we ended all the negotiations and they both snuggled close to me, I thought the day was finally about to end. However, Toyna had one more trick up her sleeve today. She gingerly sneaked her hand under the blanket and tickled Yog. Yog was waiting just for this moment, to peel into laughter and jump over Toyna to tickle her back. In a span of a few seconds, the peace was broken again and I had two high energy kids jumping on the bed in the darkness of the night.

    I raised my voice and pulled Yog back into his side of the bed. I  threatened him with Willie Wonka coming to check on kids and literally wrapped him tight in his blanket, so he could not move any more. With me finally in control, two of them knocked off to sleep in the next two minutes. I have never been into night time prayers before, but since the time these two have come in my life, it is at this exact moment, when they both drift to sleep, that I thank God for sending them in my life. They are the biggest gift, I could have ever received.

    On the same thought, I looked at both their faces and realized that the best gift that both of them had in their lives, right now, was the gift of having each other. They stimulate each other mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Even on days, I barely have time for them, they are still complete with each other. With their own strengths and eccentricities, they compliment each other perfectly. I guess the bond between siblings is the best gift that we can receive as children. I am thankful to have spent my childhood with two beautiful sisters and I am thankful that my children can enjoy the bond as well. Perhaps, there is no need to provide them with much more than that.

  • Somethings Wrong!

    red paint

    I soaked my feet into the warm foamy water in the tub. The dull music in the background blacked out the noises from the day. I slumped down on my legs and hugged my knees. My head slowly dropped to rest on my arms and I drifted into a world of nothingness. Minutes passed; the songs changed but for me time stood still somewhere where there was nothing and no one.

    Suddenly, I jerked into reality. There was something wrong. I quickly switched off the songs playing on my phone and strained to hear the sounds. I thought I had heard something. But I couldn’t hear anything now. There was pin drop silence. The silence was worrisome. I quickly stepped out of the water and wrapped a towel around me. I ran to unlock the door of my second floor bedroom and called out for Yog. No response. Oh God! Where was he? I called out to Toyna, “Toyna, where is Yog?” She grumbled from somewhere on the first floor and said, “He is coloring!” How could he be sitting in one place and coloring? Something must be wrong! I called out again, “You sure he is coloring!?! Did you see him?” She replied promptly, irritation bordering her response, “Mama, he is in front of me. He is coloring! Will you calm down, please!”

    I sighed! I realized I was hyper ventilating! I went inside my room and slumped on the bed, the wet towel still wrapped around me. I was ruined! After three years of living in constant chaos, my mind was no longer used to a peaceful bath. The only thing that was wrong on this beautiful Sunday morning, was that our house was completely peaceful. Yog was neither finger painting the walls or biting his sister. He was not switching on the gas stove or pouring refrigerated water into the dustbin. He was actually coloring! For some unknown reason, this was so difficult to digest.

    Reluctantly, I went back to the bathroom to complete the bath, but the mood to relax had decided to abandon this paranoid mother. I quickly washed the soap off my feet and got dressed. The house was still silent. Days like this, a mother like me, feels like falling on my knees and looking up towards the sky to thank God. But then, something tells me, this is just one day for now. Tomorrow, will be a new day  and Yog would definitely have thought of a new antic for tomorrow. Nonetheless, thank you God for today!